


Aftermath.

by Antecedictionary



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Oblivion - Fandom
Genre: I finished the game finally and made myself sad, because I love dying and being dead, most people have played oblivion already or at least know what happens..., should i tag for spoilers?, so I decided to write out how Valtesrian feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7426009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antecedictionary/pseuds/Antecedictionary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were all so happy- Valtesrian almost felt guilty that they didn't feel the same way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath.

**Author's Note:**

> Some practice drabble since I finished Oblivion and had to get some feelings out. If you find any errors, let me know!

  Valtesrian couldn't understand why everyone was so happy. True, the Oblivion Crisis was over. The Gates were closed, and Mehrunes Dagon had been banished from Tamriel.  


But Martin was gone. Not _dead_ , they told themself. Just gone. Cyrodiil was without an emperor, and Valtesrian was without their closest friend. A heavy pit sat where their heart should be, the dull strum of their heartbeat reminding them continuously of what they were missing.

  
  They wandered the streets of the Imperial city now, avoiding cracks in the stone and counting their steps. Around them people rejoiced in the peace, recounted their first visions of the stone dragon, and boasted about seeing the Emperor banish the Daedric prince of Destruction.

  
  They were all so _happy_ \- Valtesrian almost felt guilty that they didn't feel the same way.

  
  They sat down on the crumbled sidewalk, planting their elbows on their knees and their head in their hands. They stared down at the intricate bricks, eyebrows furrowing as they made an attempt to pick out a pattern. A bit of color drew their eyes- down to their own hands. They held them palms-up, fingers splayed.

  
  The Altmer's hands were still covered in the blood and ash of the Daedra, and now they had smeared some on their own face.

  
  How much blood had been on their hands, literally, and metaphorically? A feeling of intense guilt washed over them- how many had died under their protection, or even because they hadn't been paying close enough attention?

  
_You. I've seen you._

  
  The Emperor's voice echoed in their mind.  
_You are the one from my dreams._

  
  They tried to wipe their hands off on the fabric of their pants. Tried to wipe off the memory of all who'd died because of them.

  Baurus. Eldamil. Countless soldiers. Countless _citizens_.

  
   The Emperor. They buried their face in their hands, a sob wracking their shoulders as they remembered the Emperor. They'd known him for may an hour or two, at the most. He'd shown them so much care in that short time. He asked them questions, and spoke to them almost like they were his child.

  
  They had failed in protecting him. If only they had been more vigilant- aware of all the potential paths in the underground. Maybe he'd still have been alive, and maybe-

  
  They cleared their throat, dropping their hands into their lap and moving to stand. They wiped their eyes on their undershirt, shaking their head of the cobwebs that were being spun. They couldn't think of maybes. Uriel had been so sure of his death- maybe he and Martin were right about a man being unable to escape his destiny.

  
  They hesitated before they began walking, glancing about at the happy people around them. Shopkeepers, soldiers, regular citizens, all sorts of people, all celebrating the ending of the Oblivion Crisis and the man who had only been Emperor for thirty minutes. None of them noticed Valtesrian- none of them noticed their sorrow. 

  
  They took in a deep breath, squaring their shoulders and reaching into their bag for their journal. They had things to do- nobody they had cared about them would have wanted them wallowing in their own sadness. Not Baurus. Not Martin.  
Not Uriel.

  
 They flipped the old, tattered journal open to the list of tasks they'd written down. So many had been crossed out.

 They needed to go check on Jauffre and the other Blades first. Then, they would speak to all the Counts and Countesses, and if they took their time, perhaps they'd be able to waste two weeks. They'd return to the Imperial city and collect the armor Ocato had ordered.

  
  Then, they had a door in Niben Bay to investigate.


End file.
